Only Human
by Blue-Kool-Aid
Summary: “You can tell me everything, or you can tell me nothing. Either way, I'll sit here with you until you wish me to leave.” She gazed into his grey eyes, which were now swimming with emotion. One shot. Draco x Hermione.


_A brief introduction: _Draco Malfoy, created of course by Ms. JK Rowling (who I am in no way affliated with, and no, I am not making money off of this fanfiction), is a weak individual, hiding in a façade of strength, with a great many responsibilities pressing down on him. Much like Harry Potter, he too has to face challenges that no teenager should have to face. He does not possess the kind of uncaring ruthlessness that is necessary for a cold-blooded killer. Draco has been drawn into the Dark Arts by his family, and has been forced to practice them, while maintaining a superiority complex towards anyone who does not meet his family's standards - though he may not necessarily believe these things himself. Though weakness is one of his character flaws, perhaps it takes a greater strength to demonstrate emotional capability and admit to mistakes. One simple thing could completely unwind a person, and in the case of this fiction, perhaps Draco will reach that point - he's human too, you know. Happy reading. : )

_Disclaimer: _No, I don't own Harry Potter.

Only Human

He had drawn his knees up against his chest, shivering despite the warm breeze that the dusk of spring had brought. Just hours earlier, he had escaped yet another argument with his pompous father. The very thought of the wrath that might have been bestowed upon him made him turn cold with fear, and against his wishes, he began to recall the earlier events of that evening.

_"Yes, Draco, I realize that I was not scheduled to visit you until next week, but really, you need not look so stunned," Lucius Malfoy drawled, standing on one of Hogwarts' many staircases, staring into his son's eyes – cold and grey, much like his own._

_"I apologize, father. What is it that you wish to speak to me about so urgently? I hope you realize that I do have loads of homework to attend to - being as that this is my seventh year – and Head Boy duties to fulfill." Draco's voice was steady and confident, but his heart was beating erratically because of his father's very presence. He hoped that his father was just checking up on him at his mother's request. Narcissa was worrying more than usual lately, and that concerned him._

_Quietly, just barely a whisper, Lucius said into Draco's ear: "We will be getting you branded as soon as possible."_

_Draco froze, the words ringing in his ears. A cold sweat enveloped his body as his façade swayed slightly. "The... Dark Mark?"_

_"Of course, Draco. Whatever else would I be referring to?" Lucius' voice seemed to drop several notches below a whisper. "The Dark Lord expects you will make an excellent Death Eater, and wishes to put you abilities into motion." He watched for his son's reaction carefully._

_"But... I'm still in school, father. The Dark Mark is something that does not go unnoticed, especially on these grounds. I... it will surely be noticed!" Draco protested, bile rising in his throat unexpectedly._

_Lucius laughed cruelly. "If it becomes noticed, then I suppose you'll have to be removed immediately, won't you? Or, perhaps I could save you the trouble and withdrawal you from this filthy school – so full of Half-bloods and Mudbloods – now."_

_Draco was silent. The rest of the conversation was meaningless rubbish and when Lucius finally left, Draco sunk on to his bed, slightly weak in the knees. Withdrawal him from school? But he was doing so well! He had top marks and he was even getting along decently (by pure ignoration, of course) with the snarky Head Girl – Granger._

_He felt short of breath and slightly sick as pain roared in his head and he felt his body tremble._

And that's what had brought him to this place. The woods were silent, save for the gentle rustling of leaves amongst the trees. He could think in peace. 

Sighing, he leaned back against the tree, ready to close his eyes, when he heard a twig snap. He became fully alert, eyes searching in the fading light. He whipped his head around to see where the sound had come from and listened intently, until he finally heard a voice curse softly:

"Bloody hell!"

Draco recognized the voice immediately, but for some reason, was having a difficult time putting a face to it. His unspoken question was answered soon, however, when the stranger tripped and fell right to his feet.

She looked up for a brief second and let out a frightened yelp. This startled Draco as he attempted to stand up, but found himself squinting at the sprawled figure. He reached for his wand, said "Lumos!" and found himself face to face with Hermione Granger.

"Malfoy!" she gasped, "what are you doing out here?" She sprang to her feet very undignified like and took several steps backwards.

Draco stood up and sneered at her, replying, "I could be asking you the same question, now couldn't I?"

Hermione glared at him, and said haughtily, "It just so happens that I come here often to revise for exams and – ''

"What a surprise," Draco drawled, cutting her off with a roll of his eyes. "Where are your books, then?

Still glaring, she adjusted her disheveled robes. "I didn't come to revise tonight. I just wanted some peace and quiet, but I guess I picked the wrong place!"

"I'll say. My sanctuary has been tainted with Mudblood filth." Draco's grey eyes stared hard and cold into her gold ones.

"Funny you should say that, Malfoy, because when I think of filth, I think of Death Eaters and lost little boys with no-good-for-nothing fathers!" Hermione replied hotly, cheeks flushed and eyes blazing.

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but much to his own surprise, found himself staring at her with a slightly stunned look on his face. He felt his cheeks flush also, color travelling throughout his pale face.

"Haven't got a reply, huh? Splendid! I've managed to silence Hogwarts' biggest prat!" Her tone was sharp and biting; a very unusual tone for Hermione to have, and it sounded out of synch with her voice. Her brown hair fluttered in the breeze as she withdrew her wand and lit it so there was twice the light in the now nearly black area. She shone the light in his face, and noted with surprise, that his eyes were clouded with an emotion she had never seen in him before – sadness.

"Anyway," she began, somewhat hastily, "I'm leaving." Her announcement hung in the air thickly, and she turned on her heel to leave, but not before she caught sight of something unusual, where Draco's robe sleeve had ridden up: angry red slashes covered his pale wrist; fresh looking ones at that.

He noticed her standing there, eyeing his arm warily. He snapped out of his silence and said, "I thought you were leaving? Please, proceed! I'm merely moments away from my previous happy state." He tugged the sleeve down furiously.

"What... are those marks from?" she asked hesitantly, turning around fully to face him.

Draco sneered again. "Take it on the road, Granger. I've already had my unpleasant helping of you for today."

Hermione returned to her prior furious state. "Well, Malfoy," she said, venom dripping from her words, "if you don't kill yourself first, I'm sure you father and his gang of Death Eater mates will!"

The moment she said those words, she immediately regretted them, for a look of great anguish briefly distorted Draco's features.

"I-I'm sorry," Hermione began, "b-but people talk, and well you know... I really had no right to say that an... and..."

"Leave," he commanded, cutting her off again. His voice was low and thick. His head was bowed so he was staring at the ground.

"Malfoy, I... I..." She stopped when she saw something wet hit his sleeve. It took her a moment to realize that Draco Malfoy had just shed a tear, and was crying, though very quietly.

"Really, I'm sorry," Hermione said, moving closer, "I didn't realize that you were... upset."

He ignored her and slid back down the tree so that he was sitting again. "Get lost, Granger! Bloody hell!" he demanded, struggling to hide the emotion in his voice, and stop the newest set of tears that threatened to spill over.

Instead of leaving, however, Hermione, though a bit frightened, sat next to him, and peeked a glance. Gold met grey, and an electric-like shock passed between them. "I know... that you hate me... but... please, I don't delight in the suffering of others... even if they may delight in mine."

Draco was quiet, then he said, so softly that it could have been missed, "I don't hate you."

She acknowledged his admittance with a slight nod and then grasped his wrist and pulled the sleeve of his dark robe up again. He didn't pull back, surprisingly, as she examined the fresh, deep cuts. It was amazing that they weren't bleeding right there. She traced her finger over one and he winced. Pulling the sleeve back down, she let his arm drop, but not before giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

And that's when Draco Malfoy lost control, his defensive barrier cracking and shattering, drifting and melting into the night wind. Fresh tears stained his face as he realized that no one, save for his mother, had ever offered him such a simple gesture of comfort. It had been so long since someone had dared to reach past his emotional barricades. His hand still tingled as he swiped furiously at his eyes. He was being weak, he knew, something that Slytherins, especially Malfoys, were not.

Hermione was very confused as she saw the new tears. Then, as gently as she possibly could, she said, "You can tell me everything or you can tell me nothing. Either way, I'll sit here with you until you wish me to leave." Very timidly, she pulled him into her arms and embraced him tightly, her mind condemning her for helping the enemy, and her heart commending her.

She was surprised when Draco gripped her tightly back, a motion that demonstrated his ache for human contact. He buried his head in her shoulder as powerful sobs overtook his body, causing him to shake and reach the brink of near hyperventilation. She could feel his pain as she shyly stroked his soft hair, and it was nearly numbing. Sighing softly, the quietly said a spell that suspended both of their wands in the air.

Draco didn't know why he had succumbed to such weakness, but it felt good to have those arms wrapped around him tightly, and the sound of someone else's steady beating heart made him feel less alone. He knew that if his father ever found out about this, he would be as good as dead. "A civilized meeting with a Mudblood, Draco? A friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, no less! You're disgusting, and you disgust me..."

Hermione continued stroking his hair as he finally settled down from his hysterics. He lifted his head weakly, and felt her gaze meet his. 

"I'm sorry," Draco apologized hoarsely, his speech thick and laced with tears.

"Don't apologize... it's all right," Hermione replied firmly. Making direct eye contact, she said, "If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I shouldn't have said those things, though I didn't realize the extent of pain that they would cause you..."

Swallowing hard, he turned slightly away from her. Trembling in fear at the prospect that his father might somehow overhear, he said quietly, "I really don't believe that there is any difference between Purebloods and Muggle-borns... and I feel guilty when I'm prejudice and I do have morals. My parents, however, have standards, and I just want to please them... I'm so afraid of... of... fucking things up. But it doesn't really matter, because you were right, my father probably would choose the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters over me..."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione replied quietly. "I'm sorry that this has caused you so much pain."

Draco moved away from her then, confusion finally settling in. His dark demeanor might have subsided for the moment, but he felt... disgusting. As he recounted all the times he had made Hermione cry, all the times he had insulted her and called her names, all the times when he had sought violence upon her friends... he felt sick to the stomach, remorseful, even. He was appalled at himself, and genuinely amazed that someone he had tortured so much would sit with him and embrace him. He felt like he did in sixth year, ashamed, when had been sneaking off to the bathrooms to cry, so that no one would witness his weakness and use it against him.

Head pounding, he stood up to walk away from the situation he now found himself in, to return to some form of normalcy.

Hermione jumped up and as he started to walk away, she grabbed him. "No," she said softly. "No, please don't go. You're emotionally distraught right now, and... and I wouldn't want you to do anything rash," she said rather fearfully, remembering the marks on his arm.

He turned slowly, the small glow from their wands illuminating his face. Dark bags loomed under his eyes and tear tracks soiled his otherwise handsome face. "I'm... I'm only human," he admitted, falling to his knees. He felt cold, almost empty. His heart was heavy in his chest as he felt the emotional pain envelop him in a second wave of despair.

Draco was broken. Realization had dawned on him quickly – he had only two paths to choose from, neither having favorable outcomes. One lead to the dark life of a Death Eater, forever branded with Voldemort's Dark Mark, destroying the lives of others, and the possibility of an untimely death. The other path, redemption, saw him running for the rest of his life from danger as long as Voldemort was around, and cutting off the ties with his family. Not that he actually cared about his father too much... but his mother, dear Merlin, his mother. His soul ached.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered, timidly using his first name. His eyes were glazed over and he was stone cold still. She was beginning to think that he had been possessed when he finally blinked his eyes.

"Hermione... I... I just... want release. I just... want death." Draco's voice was calm, even as the weight of the world and his responsibilities and duties came crashing down upon him all at once. His emotional capacity had reached its limit, and was threatening to spill over dangerously.

She was stunned by this dark moment, the sadness and pain that emitted from the boy with the Slytherin confidence and nasty tongue. He was crushed; scarred so deeply, that it was hard to believe that merely an hour ago he had been a showboating and sly individual.

"No, Draco," she finally said, quietly. "No." And surprised at her own boldness, she walked towards him and sank to his level. One hand found the back of his head and pushed it forward, while the other stroked his soft cheek. When their lips connected, a current passed between the two of them, and he felt something warm sizzle in the pit of his stomach.

The kiss was gentle, and Hermione had no intention of keeping it over five seconds, but Draco responded so passionately, that she just couldn't pull away.

In mere moments, Draco was on the forest floor, Hermione on top of him, both kissing each other with such fervor that it scared them. Mouths opened and tongues met as the wild dance continued. He was holding her so tightly she thought she was going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, but when his hands started roaming her body and he attempted to flip them, she pulled away, scared.

"I'm sorry," she sputtered, jumping away, still feeling his lips on hers, his cool mint taste lingering. "I shouldn't have done that."

His head in his hands, he sunk back against the tree. "It's... it's okay... we... I got carried away." His heart pounded, and the vulnerability that he had just demonstrated set in. He had his knees pulled up to his chest again.

"Draco... I want to help you. I know that even though you've explained your reasons for it, you and I have never gotten along well. But, please. As much as the past may affect us, I don't want you to be so heavily burdened with no one to turn to. I'm... I'm sorry about your situation... I really am." Hermione felt a tear slide down her cheek, and moving closer, she took his hand and kissed the palm. "I offer you both friendship and the willingness to get you out of this mess." She traced his self-made scars. "I don't want to see that Mark on your skin... ever."

Draco didn't say anything; he just wrapped his arms around her and embraced her tightly, much like she had done to him. "Thank you..." A dose of redemption coursed through his veins.

All she could do was nod as she tried to wrap her mind around the last emotionally charged hour. She felt Draco tremble slightly. Looking him full in the face, she tried to memorize the moment. His face was pale, sleek blond hair matted to his forehead in cold sweat, bags enveloping his blood-shot eyes. Weariness illuminated his face, illustrating the mental struggle that he had just endured. Yet, despite all the imperfections, she still found him strikingly handsome, and even more so now that he wasn't putting on a show for all of his friends and family to assess. His features, she realized, displayed an odd kind of purity; determined, yet vulnerable to the enemy.

He noticed Hermione examining him, so he studied her in return. She really was something to look at – full red lips, rosy cheeks, a mane of now-sleek chestnut hair, and golden, intelligent eyes. She looked tired, but slightly satisfied.

"Draco?" she murmured, sleepily. "Even though I don't know you all that well yet, and even though I'm not even sure I can fully trust you, _I promise I won't let anything happen to you_."

"I..." He felt shy, another feeling that he was not used to. "I'll try not to stray terribly far."

Pulling the boy closer, she said, "We should get back to the castle before we're caught out here. We can meet here again tomorrow, if you'd like." She grabbed her wand out of the air and handed his to him.

"Yes," was all Draco could manage. He was drained.

Hermione took his hand and squeezed it, but this time, she didn't let go. "Let's go."

They began to walk back to the castle, clasping each other's hands tightly. Hermione realized that he was incredibly warm, despite the cold appearance, and that he emitted a certain warmth, too.

After all, he was only human.


End file.
